The Viking Invasion

Erik and Annette arrived in Edmonton smiling but exhausted while The Viking and I were almost jumping up and down with excitement. Almost. Because it’s unbecoming for Double D boobs to start flapping around in crowds – someone, other than myself, could get hurt and The Viking’s little jiggles would offer little distraction from my epic display. So we waited impatiently without jumping.

Then, through the sliding doors, behind a fussy little guy with a mountain of luggage, I caught a glimpse of Erik. “THERE THEY ARE!!!” The Viking pushed me out of the way so he could verify the sighting – like they were Yeti’s and I couldn’t be trusted with visuals.

We spent the night in a hotel near the airport then drove back to Calgary. The following day would begin the ‘Victoria or Bust’ Vacation/Honeymoon Tour. My legs were shaved, exfoliated and smeared with the best lotion available in the hopes that British Columbia sunshine would give them even the faintest of tans. My legs are tan-resistant, always glowing in the dark like they belong to a damned Vampire. Oddly, my feet tan just fine. I’m pretty sure I know why though.

“Yea, though I walk in the shadow of my boobs, my legs shall fear no sunburn: for the great boobies protect them from UV rays. Bugs will bite and thorns will scratch but no burn will afflict mine legs. Surely their whiteness shall beam for all the days of my life.”

Um…… where was I? Oh yes – travelling. It didn’t take us more than an hour and a half to completely corrupt Annette with Canadian food – Tim Hortons to be exact. A breakfast sandwich, a large double/double coffee and Tim Bits ruined her for life. And we didn’t do it just once either; we shoved that shit down her throat for a week before The Viking and Erik decided we had to stop with the Tim Bits. The breakfast sandwiches were still okay in their opinion but Annette and I would be starved of the doughnutty deliciousness until further notice. It was only on the final leg back to Calgary that the Doughnut Police finally decided we could have Tim Bits again.

“What. The fuck. Is that?!” Annette and I wanted to know when they showed up with coffee and a teeny, tiny, miniscule little box of Tim Bits – like they were for Ken and Barbie or something. The Viking was beaming like he was offering us gold bars while Erik nodded his participation in the offering.

The Viking: We thought that since this was the last day of our road trip we would treat you with Tim Bits.

Me: Did you do the math on this?

The Viking: The math?

Me: Yes. The math. There are 4 people in the vehicle and 20 Tim Bits. That means we only get 5 each!

The Viking: That’s enough, isn’t it?

Me: Oh, it most definitely isn’t enough! It might be months before I get Tim Bits again and you’re rationing us? What is this? War time or something? What if I put you on a licorice diet? Only allowed you 5 pieces of licorice once a day?

The Viking: That’s not the same thing at all!

Me: Yes it is! Erik and Annette brought you 83 pounds of candy from Denmark and that might have to last you for 2 years. It’s totally the same.

The Viking wouldn’t cave but Erik decided to watch his man-ly figure and generously donated his share of the Bits. Annette and I split them between us because The Viking didn’t deserve any more. I then proceeded to give him the stink eye all the way home.

We graced Vancouver Island with our presence for 3 days then we headed to Pentiction where we would tour Wineries and lay on the beach. That was our intention, but it didn’t actually work out that way. We hit one Winery, only stayed at the beach for an hour and a half before it clouded over, took a ride on an old historic train and got drunk a lot instead.

We did play Mini-Golf but Erik was like some sort of Pool Shark except with golf balls. Sure, he was humble while we were playing but when he announced that he beat all of us by a minimum of 6 strokes he couldn’t hide the Victory Grin.

I asked, “Is anyone else suspicious that the guy who kept score is also the one that won the game?” The last laugh was ours the next morning though when Erik developed painful Golfer’s Wrist; we had to find a splint to immobilize it. What cost the price of Victory?

After Mini Golf we went to a Chinese Buffet and the true difference between how the Danes treat Buffets and how Canadians (at least this Canadian) treat Buffets were glaring. Annette, The Viking and Erik carefully perused the food and picked out Fishy Stuff. I perused the food and picked out the stuff I liked and put it on my plate. Back at the table, my plate was full while their plates held only a few things. They all finished their first course and returned to the Buffet for their next.

I sat nibbling on my chicken balls, watching the progress of my companions. It took a moment for what I was seeing to sink into my brain. The Viking was first, Annette was second and Erik was bringing up the rear. Their movements were perfectly synchronized! They all took one step to the right in precise unison. They all put something on their plate (the hand movements were immaculately synced) and took another flawless step to the right. They repeated this amazing show the whole way around the Buffet!! This performance would have captured them a Gold Medal if it was an Olympic Event (we should make this an Olympic Event). No swim team could have matched the precision. They returned to the table, in-step, with a military precision Korean soldiers would envy.

“Um….I don’t know if you know this but that was an incredible display of The Buffet Shuffle.” I said. “I was completely entertained. Well done!”

Apparently they had never heard of The Buffet Shuffle so I had to explain the intricate steps and movements involved. I’ve been to a lot of Buffets in my life – my father is a huge fan – but I’ve never seen the Shuffle done so well. Unfortunately, I didn’t think to get my phone out and record it until it was too late. Equally unfortunate was the fact that when I went up to get another dumpling the only person I had to Shuffle with was a very tall, very skinny guy and he was more interested in the Ginger Beef than Shuffling. I did try though, but had to stop when he caught me trying to match his movements.

We gazed at mountains and glaciers, tramped through a forest, Erik watched whales and the rest of us communed with nature at The Butchart Gardens. We toasted bikers, toured a Miniature Land and browsed 317 gift shops. We saw the Hope Slide, the Enchanted Forest, Fisherman’s Wharf and a Water Fall that used to be free but now isn’t. Erik and The Viking drank Beer with Clamato Juice and Ceasars with abandon and then had the trots. They didn’t believe me when I told them it was the Clamato Juice so they had the trots for much longer than they needed too. Annette and I polished off two bottles of Lemon Gin and didn’t get the trots at all.

Most importantly, we had HYGGE. In abundance! We just spent time together and laughed and talked and were a family. It was one of the best times of my life. You know how sometimes you spend time with people but after a few days you want to shoot them in the face? Well, this wasn’t one of those things. It was bliss instead.

We arrived home to two very love-y cats who refused to let any of us out of their sight for two days. That was fine because we had only a day and a half to prepare for my Wedding. Thank goodness Annette is a brilliant Hair Stylist. Also thankfully, she is a calm and serene island in the middle of my Stress Mess.

I agree with Susan… and may I add that it would be wise not to read Mrs Viking in any public place, period! I read this at work (Oh! Surprise surprise!!) and didn’t get dirty looks, because people are used to hear me giggle at my desk, but I did get my share of rolling eyes 😉

Thanks for sharing the epic “Honeymoon” 🙂 Always a great great pleasure to read you!!

You. Kill. Me.
And, I feel your pain… another thing in common Double Ds… then again, you’ll never see me bouncing about unless I have prepared ahead of time. I had three kids. ’nuff said. You will never. NEVER. See me on a a trampoline again. And my shins don’t tan. Ever. My feet and thighs, check. Shins? Nope. What up wit dat?
And this: “Yea, though I walk in the shadow of my boobs, my legs shall fear no sunburn: for the great boobies protect them from UV rays. Bugs will bite and thorns will scratch but no burn will afflict mine legs. Surely their whiteness shall beam for all the days of my life.”
Just about pee’d my pants reading this. Oh lawzy…
Cheap bastards when it came to the Timbits. Seriously. Not cool.
Cannot wait to read about the wedding. Wish I were there to see it “live”! 😉

The Viking loved your assessment of his Bastardness.
I had a friend once who said the only good thing about big boobs was that you could feed the baby without lifting it out of the crib.
Jumping on a trampoline is the only reason I would have an acreage. Well, fresh vegetables, too, I suppose but mainly trampolines. The girls could be free at last! Bouncing and bouncing and bouncing! Heaven.
And now The Viking has offered to be the audience. LOL! I love you Dale!